


The Secret of Lady Sansa

by Sarah1281



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Margaery's wedding approaches, she tries to figure out the puzzle that is Sansa Stark. She knows about how much her own interaction with Sansa was real. How much of Sansa was?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret of Lady Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> For the GoT exchange on livejournal: 
> 
> "Ophelia's mind went wandering, you'd wonder where she'd gone; through secret doors, down corridors, she'd wander them alone" (Natalie Merchant - Ophelia)

Sansa Stark was a marvel, she really was. 

Margaery hated to have to avoid her, she really did, but she understood the reasons she had to. 

Sansa Stark may be one of the most unfortunate girls Margaery had ever met. There were probably girls who had suffered more, out among the smallfolk, but the smallfolk at least had never expected that their lives would be more than what they were. That was truly what Margaery had had most impressed upon her by her encounters with the little people. A smile and a kind word and they looked at her as if she were a miracle. As if it were even difficult. 

Sansa, though. Truthfully, Sansa’s story chilled her. 

Sansa was the daughter of one of the great houses, just as Margaery was. House Tyrell had been founded a very long time ago and had been ruling the Reach for 300 years, ever since the Targaryens came. Everyone said that 300 years was perfectly respectable and it was. It just wasn’t 8000 years respectable like House Stark was. Margaery tried to think back that far but found that she couldn’t. It just defied her imagination and that was the line that begot Sansa. No wonder she could sometimes turn to stone. 

Sansa had had three brothers and a sister. A baseborn brother, too, but that really didn’t count even if he did grow up with them. Margaery had three brothers. No sister, unfortunately, though she had always wanted one. But Margaery was luckier than Sansa. No one knew what had become of little Arya though the fact she had never resurfaced meant that, even were she alive, she could not be doing very well. Everyone knew what became of poor crippled Bran and little Rickon. Everyone knew of the Red Wedding (Margaery had almost gone to her then. Almost. Her grandmother had to sit her down very firmly and remind her why she could not). Margaery was lucky. Loras may be heartbroken but he would live and Garlan and Willas didn’t put themselves in that sort of danger. 

Sansa was to marry a prince and become a queen. Margaery was to marry a king and become a queen. As it happened, that royal boy was the same in both of their stories. But he was cruel. Sansa risked being punished by a man who everyone knew had beaten and humiliated her to protect a virtual stranger who had been effortlessly kind in order to warn her about him. He had, or so they said, promised Sansa he would spare her father then smiled at her and called for the man’s head. 

Maybe Ned Stark really was guilty of treason. She did not know. What she did know was that Mace Tyrell had thrown his support behind Stannis Baratheon’s younger brother so even if those horrible rumors were true Renly would not be the legal heir. And now she was to become queen. 

Margaery was fortunate in every way that Sansa was not. 

Joffrey may be no woman’s dream but Margaery was not a prisoner, isolated and vulnerable, free to be abused with no consequence. If Joffrey hurt her then, at least for now, her family would ruin the Lannisters. As for later…well, House Tyrell always protected its own. 

Sansa was married as well, though she was a few years younger than Margaery was. 

Joffrey had his charms, despite his impulsivity and cruelty. He was handsome and he was king. He was just fool enough to follow her lead. And what did the Lannisters ever do to her? 

Tyrion was ugly and misshapen – worse, they said, since Blackwater – and his nephew had killed her father. His sister had had her father arrested in the first place. His father had had her brother and even her gentle mother slaughtered in the cruelest possible way. He had shown up to the wedding knowing full well what was going on and that she would not want to marry him. He married her so that House Lannister could steal her home. Their children may have her blood and, if the gods had any kindness left for the poor dear, they may look like her (though her look was Tully not Stark) but they would be raised Lannisters. They might be called Stark to mollify the North but they would be Lannisters and nothing of what once was would survive in them. 

Margaery had carefully considered before she agreed to be wed to Joffrey. She may not have had a great deal of options but she had more, certainly, than poor Sansa who had plainly had no idea until she walked into the room. 

There was Sansa walking her way even now. She was likely not walking to meet Margaery. She had quickly grasped that her association with the Tyrells was lost the moment her maidenhead was. She never did make a scene, not even at her own wedding. She refused to kneel before the dwarf but she had said the words and she had reminded Margaery so much of winter she could almost see the blizzard in her. 

Lady Sansa Stark. Lady Sansa Lannister. Which was it, really? 

Easy to know which Sansa would prefer. And with Cersei Lannister and Margaery Tyrell, well, why not? 

Sansa’s step did not falter when she saw Margaery though she stood a little straighter. 

“Lady Margaery,” Sansa greeted politely, coming to a stop a few feet away from her. 

They hadn’t been this close in quite a while. What was she thinking? She wasn’t with child, at least as far as Margaery could tell, and that relieved Margaery greatly. It would have to happen eventually, assuming Sansa wasn’t cursed to infertility. Having a Lannister child would be hard enough for her but allowing her line to die out would be so much worse. And men did not like wives who could not give them heirs, especially heirs to something so prized as the entire northern kingdom. 

In a way, it was Margaery’s fault Sansa was wed to Tyrion. Hers and her family’s. Somehow the Lannisters had learned of their plan to spirit Sansa away to Highgarden to wed Willas. There had been no need to marry Sansa off right away, even with her betrothal to Joffrey recently broken, until there was a plot to steal her away. It was too bad it had failed. The North was quite the dowry and Margaery had so wanted her as a sister. 

“Lady Sansa,” Margaery said warmly, smiling at her. “I hope you are well.” 

She looked well. Or at least as well as Margaery had ever seen her. Even before the Red Wedding, Sansa had still been a prisoner and still grieving her father. She was looking better than she had in those weeks that followed the loss of her family. It would be hard not to. 

“I am, my lady,” Sansa replied. There was nothing in her voice but courtesy. 

Hard to believe she could be telling the truth. She was still a prisoner. She would likely spend the rest of her life a prisoner, so long as the Lannisters remained in power. Her children would steal her home for her enemies. And should they fall from favor? Well then she had an inconvenient dwarven husband to dispose of, didn’t she? Margaery wouldn’t say she’d rather die than let that imp touch her but it was a close thing. 

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Margaery said. “I know you haven’t been feeling well of late.” 

“It will pass,” Sansa said simply. “I expect all things do, eventually. Even the ones that seem like they will last forever.” 

Death did not pass but grief did. All of Sansa’s tormentors and nightmares would disappear one day, even if that day was long after Sansa was no longer there to see it. 

Margaery was looking right at her and she was looking right back. She had known Sansa for months and it was like a candle had blown out. They had been so close so quickly, out of necessity if nothing else. Margaery had needed to gain Sansa’s trust to learn the truth about Joffrey and to convince her to fly away with them. Margaery was the first one to want something from Sansa she could not take by force and the first kind face she had known since probably her father’s arrest. Was it any wonder Sansa had clung to her like a lifeline? 

But now it was like she was a stranger. Sansa had realized the truth and Margaery could not approach her. It was no good to remind Tywin Lannister of what they had been planning. Should it not be good Sansa was not making this difficult? And yet, somehow, it didn’t feel like it. 

“I am looking forward to your wedding, Lady Margaery,” Sansa continued after a moment. 

“Oh?” Margaery said, wondering if Sansa really meant that or if she was just being courteous. One thing Sansa Stark could always be counted on was her courtesy. It was why her defiance at her wedding had been so noticeable. 

Sansa nodded and her hair rippled. It really was her best feature. “Oh, yes. A royal wedding is always a cause for celebration, is it not? And we’ve had so little cause for joy of late.” 

Could she mean that? She had certainly been relieved she wouldn’t have to marry Joffrey when Margaery had first come to court. And there was a war going on, yes, but Sansa had had less joy than most. The Lannisters had won, after all. They had won over her family and there was no one left to ransom her. 

Margaery remembered Sansa laughing. It had been a rare sound but getting more frequent by the time their plot had been discovered. She remembered seeing her smile in a way she never had in public. She remembered being confided in, though she would be a fool to think Sansa trusted her with everything. And now she was getting the same mask everyone else got. 

‘What are you thinking?’ Margaery wanted to ask her. But she couldn’t. Even were Sansa willing to get over her sudden cutting of ties, the reasons for that were still very much present. 

“I so agree,” Margaery told her. “War is such an unfortunate part of life, is it not? Oh, my brother may enjoy the glory but I may simply be too soft-hearted to see it. Glory is one thing but there is always such a cost.” 

Sansa looked at her hands briefly. “Yes.” 

She had lost everything save her life and all she could say was ‘yes.’ 

_Where are you, Sansa?_

“But even Loras is less keen than he used to be,” Margaery continued. “He lost such a dear friend in Renly Baratheon.” He had lost his sun. Margaery had never had someone like that. She had wondered if maybe, when Willas was safely wed…well she had shared a husband with one brother. Why could she not share a wife with another? But it did not matter. Not anymore. Joffrey was not to be trusted. If he knew he might not mind but he would hurt Sansa wishing to join in. She knew what kind of obsession her husband-to-be had with her…friend. Tyrion was to be trusted even less. Joffrey, at least, was easy to manipulate. Tyrion was clever and conniving and hateful. 

“He was your husband, wasn’t he?” Sansa asked. 

Margaery smiled tightly. “He was but we were wed such a short time and with the war going on there was not time for us to have a proper wedding night.”

That was what most people would have meant bringing him up. The questions after questions after questions after questions about whether she was still a maid, about where Tyrell loyalty truly lay if they would run from Renly to his enemies as though there was anywhere else to go. Should they simply return to Highgarden and wait to see what would happen? Margaery knew what would have happened then. Stannis would have taken King’s Landing and he would have exacted retribution for the siege they had long-since been pardoned for. 

But Sansa was kind, far more than anyone else would have been in her situation. There was being civil and not displeasing her captors but Sansa was, somehow, still unfailingly kind. 

“I only meant it must have been difficult for you to lose him,” Sansa said. “I only knew him a little but he seemed like a good man.” 

“He was,” Margaery agreed. “And it’s always sad when promising young men are cut down in the prime of their life but Stannis Baratheon evidently has no qualms against kinslaying and we must make the best of our situations.” 

“What a terrible thing, to slay one’s own kin,” Sansa mused. “I confess I cannot understand it.” 

“Nor I,” Margaery said. “My family is very close. It is war, I should say, but one hears things about such things occurring outside of a conflict. Not everyone can be a knight, I suppose.” 

“And not all knights are true,” Sansa said softly. 

“At least now it is over,” Margaery said, sighing. “Or nearly so. Most people, after such a great a loss as Blackwater, would accept their fate and swear fealty. But I’ve grown up hearing stories about Stannis Baratheon’s infamous stubbornness and how his refusal to face reality can sometimes make reality itself change so perhaps it is not so surprising.” 

Sansa had a small smile on her face. “I heard stories about him growing up, too. Though perhaps from a different angle.” 

Margaery smiled back. “I suppose so. We were on the wrong side of that war, I will admit. We don’t intend to have that happen again. I don’t remember back that far but I would imagine it was quite awkward for a while.” 

“Awkward,” Sansa echoed. 

No need to connect that back to her own miserable situation which likely was never far from her mind. Her time would come again, though. That was the way of it. Everyone knew the North would accept no other ruler than a Stark so they would need to use her claim and not displace her entirely. It may take generations but with eight thousand years of endurance surely House Stark would make it through this, as impossible as it was to believe at the moment. Surely. 

But even saying that much wasn’t safe. Tywin Lannister did have quite the inflated view of his own power and legacy and he had little interest in anyone else’s. 

“I was fortunately well away from King’s Landing during the Battle of Blackwater Bay,” Margaery said. “Despite the ultimate victory of Lannister and Tyrell forces, I cannot imagine that it would have been pleasant to be here during the attack.” 

Sansa reflexively tucked a bit of errant hair behind her ears. “It was not, no. We had no idea that your family would come to our aid. We had no idea of much of anything until the battle was quite over. Such is the way of things, I am told. A woman will spend half her life waiting. Queen Cersei gathered all of us noble ladies into a room and there was a feast to try and distract us.” 

“A feast? That was kind of her.” 

“Kind,” Sansa echoed. 

She couldn’t possibly mean that. Cersei was her captor and she had never restrained her son from being cruel to Sansa in public, why would she restrain him in private? And yet there was absolutely no indication in her body or her voice that she didn’t mean it completely. 

“She said she did not want the ladies to worry,” Sansa said. “She said that if Lord Stannis came then she would not let him take us. I believed her although it did not end up coming to that.” 

In Sansa’s case, taking might be a rescue. She had heard of Stannis’ promise to Lady Catelyn. 

“That was so good of her,” Margaery said. Good if impractical. And how exactly was Cersei Lannister going to stop them? “How wonderful that the king’s mother is so good in a crisis. Although I hope we will not have many more of them that require her skills.” 

Margaery had met Cersei Lannister. Even without knowing that Cersei was contributing in some way to Sansa’s misery, Margaery knew that she was not a kind woman. Margaery, too, was not as kind as she needed to make people believe but she did have some kindness. It was as if Cersei were completely devoid of it, or at least devoid of it where Margaery was concerned. Why that was she couldn’t say but it did not dispose her kindly towards her future goodmother. 

She knew how Sansa must feel. Didn’t she? It must be negative, right? Sansa wasn’t so much a fool to actually think well of the people who had destroyed her family and were keeping her prisoner even now, no matter what the rest of King’s Landing might think. 

But that’s what made it truly chilling. Margaery knew this must be fake, she _knew_ it, and yet she couldn’t see it. All she could see was a genuine and earnest girl telling of the former queen’s bravery and kindness. Margaery prided herself on being able to read people. It was how she managed to charm nobles all her life and to endear herself to the smallfolk (whose approval they really did need and did Cersei learn nothing from that riot the day her daughter left?). And yet she couldn’t see any signs that Sansa did not truly mean it. It was remarkable. No wonder everyone thought she was stupid, if she could convince them this well. 

But then what about the Sansa Margaery had come to know and care for? The one who was scared and had been hurt but who was hopeful and trusted easier than she thought wise? Was that no different than this? That Sansa was long gone, at least as far as Margaery was concerned. And it was entirely fair, real or not, that she was but had she been real? Or had she been what the Tyrells wanted her to be so she could escape from King’s Landing? 

By any measure, being the Lady of Highgarden would be an improvement to being Joffrey’s queen and, later, having no set match. She wouldn’t be a prisoner for one thing and her family had nothing in particular against the Starks. They would want to see her back in Winterfell and having half-Tyrell children to rule over it. She had been exactly what they were hoping for. 

Was all of that a lie? They had lied to her, in a way, and had she lied, too? 

_Who are you, Sansa?_

“I hope not, as well,” Sansa said, as sweet and genuine as ever. “It was very upsetting. We were all terribly frightened. So much bloodshed and nothing changed.” 

“War rarely changes things as much as you’d like them to,” Margaery said sagely. “Remember the Greyjoy rebellions?” 

A shadow passed across Sansa’s face. “Yes, I do. Or rather, I was too young to remember but I learned much about them.” 

“I have never been to a royal wedding,” Margaery told her. “The last one was the wedding of Queen Cersei and King Robert and that was when I was but a babe. I’m actually rather excited. And it is my own wedding, too!” 

“I’m glad that you are so happy about your marriage,” Sansa said softly. “So many brides are not.” 

“Sansa…” 

Sansa smiled gently at her. “It is good. I hope being queen will give you all the happiness you expect it will, all the happiness I know it would never have given me.” 

She sounded like she meant it. She sounded as though she truly wished nothing but the best for Margaery, even after all that had happened. But then, she _always_ sounded like she meant _everything_. And she couldn’t possibly, could she? 

No one was that good and that kind. In this world, that sort of innocence would kill you. 

Margaery had never known Sansa before. She had heard stories, of the stupid little bird who hadn’t realized she was in a lion’s den until the cage had locked behind her. But they called her stupid now and that clearly wasn’t true. Who knew how much of what they said was true and how much was just their blindness? 

She must have been more innocent when she first came, back when she had her sister and her father was the Hand of the King. Back when her brothers were all safe at Winterfell with her mother. 

The world may have proven all too cruelly what value it places on innocence but Sansa wasn’t dead. She wasn’t even broken. 

As Sansa politely excused herself, Margaery could only stare at her – automatically murmuring her own courtesies – and wonder just who this girl in front of her was. She wondered if she would ever get the chance to find out.


End file.
